A few months ago I would not have considered the possibility that my older son Ben and I would be in two of the most economically depressed areas of the world at the same time. Native New Englanders from an upscale community north of Boston, neither Somalia nor Haiti were on our travel list.
While Ben was serving as a Search and Rescue swimmer on deployment with the United States Navy helping to keep the waters of the Gulf of Aden free from pirates, I was safe at home, thinking there might be more important things to do with my time.
During his deployment I decided to join the Free Christian mission team, hoping for an opportunity to put my engineering and construction skills to good use during a slow time in my career. I travelled with several dedicated Christians, some of which have made many mission journeys as family “vacations”.
As we approached Port-au-Prince from the air, I had the same thought I had when first landing at LAX- “I can only imagine how nice this was before man ruined it!” Here of course damage is many times worse, but it had the same feeling of unplanned sprawl with people appearing to aimlessly spend their life traveling about in traffic.
In Los Angeles there are still many beautiful natural areas of course; in Haiti almost all environmental beauty has been destroyed by neglect and abuse. This has been going on for generations; the earthquake ironically has brought international attention to the crisis and perhaps some much-needed restoration will occur.
Getting through the airport terminal was a challenge, as we had men fighting for the right to carry our bags: this is not the place for the physically weak or the weak in spirit! There is very little real employment in Haiti, so beggars and men aggressively offering their assistance for money are everywhere. (photo of street scene)
Our Haitian driver Lamar, cautiously herded us into our “tap-tap”, a caged trucked that allows us to see out through the wire, but keeps us relatively secure inside. A lot of the aid workers and missionaries ride in tap taps as they safely limit interaction with the population while stuck in the abominable traffic. (photo of tap tap) A padlock keeps anyone from getting in, or out! It is an understatement to say that visitors should not travel alone in Haiti.
While loading our tap tap, vagabonds and street sellers tried their best to sell us their services, sell us some trinkets, or otherwise encourage us to part with our money. There are many sad sights, with the elderly, disabled, desperately poor youth and just plain desperate making their case for our largesse. We were immediately accosted with the sad drama of life in Haiti: filth, debris, disease, air pollution, a constant fight for survival, amid what I call “calamitous inefficiency”. It seemed so unnecessary, as the waste of resources, human and otherwise, was inexplicable and startling.
Virtually all of the vehicles are in disrepair or damaged, and no effort goes into maintenance or improving emissions. Other than brand new United Nations vehicles, the springs of every vehicle I saw were long past their useful life, as the abuse of damage roadways have taken its toll. There are traveling repair trucks, available to pump up or repair damaged tires while they are in traffic. The only signs of efficiencies are the ubiquitous small motorcycles and the trucks overloaded with Haitians hitching rides.
It was a daily ritual for us to sit for hours in barely moving gridlock, as we traveled from our missionary compound to various destinations in Port-au-Prince. We were surrounded by dirt and garbage piles, dilapidated buildings and thousands and thousands of people with not much to do. Does any visitor actually eat any of the food endlessly offered for sale on the streets? It is hard enough to stay healthy here by breathing the air; we certainly would not want to invite in parasites, disease and other illnesses. We started to lose sanity and entertained ourselves by playing “punch piggy”: punching each other each time we saw a pig roaming the streets eating garbage.
One enterprising 10 year old boy used the only English he knew on all of us one at a time as he held out his hand: “you don’t remember me my friend…you don’t remember me?”
As a civil engineer it struck me how tragic and unnecessary all of this pollution, refuse and traffic is! But it also occurred to me how overwhelming the task would be to change it; they have a history of corrupt governments, no money, no infrastructure, few trained workers, and a culture that does not promote planning, timeliness, or quality work. Haitians are constantly fighting for survival, so there is no reason to build things right, take care of their surroundings, or clean up their environment.
Haitians for generations have focused on their immediate needs, and not given much thought to pollution, deforestation, and erosion. When coupled with dramatic population growth, the result is a tragically poor population living with polluted water, tainted food supplies, and almost complete deforestation of their part of the island.
In the United States we fine businesses and individuals millions of dollars per year for not filing reports on time, or getting the right paperwork; procedural things that cause no ecological damage. In Haiti, like much of the developing and third world, significant environmental catastrophes happen on a daily basis with no thought or action.
Some of Haiti’s seafood has been contaminated by failed sewage facilities; collapsing buildings have displaced snakes and other creatures; the soils are loaded with dangerous spores of all types. Tainted water is the biggest source of disease, spread by the lack of suitable sanitary facilities and good sanitation practices.
In addition to stark living conditions, residents live with erratic electrical power, almost no visible organization or authority, and little infrastructure to speak of. The grid-locked muddy streets are filled with potholes and are often barely passable. There are no traffic signs, and the few solar-powered signals do not work at night or when it is cloudy. No one pays attention to them anyway.
Here is a typical street scene driving through Port-au-Prince in June 2010. It is quite choppy, but you get a good idea what a dump the city; there is no comparision in the United States as nowhere I have been is this bad.
Along the main streets of Port-au-Prince, sellers work to ply their trade next to piles of garbage, often accompanied by rabid dogs, roaming pigs, goats and chickens.
In spite of this dire need for organization, management, and infrastructure improvements, we did not see one piece of construction equipment working in Port-au-Prince during eight days there. Remember this is over four months after the earthquake! One aid worker I met on the plane, told me that there is brand new construction equipment being stored on a dock in the harbor.
We saw a few United Nations trucks moving about, but no UN troops or workers actually working. We did see one UN water truck delivering water to an orphanage. We did not see any signs of US government presence, military or otherwise. There was not much of a Haitian police presence, but they certainly could not have much of an effect anyway, as piles of debris, garbage, vehicles and people prevented any kind of reasonable access.
There is still the scent of death over parts of the island since the earthquake. While construction equipment sits on the docks, there could be over a hundred thousand people still buried in the debris. Of course the actual count of the dead will never be known.
A May 15, 2010 article by Leslie Berliant on http://www.solveclimate.com aptly stated “At the end of a day moving through Port au Prince, your hair will feel like straw, every part of your body will be covered in sweat, dirt and dust and you will spend the night coughing up and sneezing out what you hope is dirt but are pretty sure is something more sinister.”
Your main concerns are your safety getting out of the city before dark, what ailments or diseases you might have contracted, and how sick you might get in the hours to come. Only then can you reflect on the sights you have seen, how overwhelming the challenges are, and how you might fit in the hope for eventual solutions. How can I help the people I got to know? How can I leave them behind in this place?
May God bless and protect the aid workers, missionaries and medical teams that provide help and hope to the island. Many of them have made many, regular trips out of a calling to serve those in desperate need.